


Even Smoke Must Clear

by hushlittlewolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 2nd POV, Gen, Mentions of canonical death, Spoilers of season 3 mid-finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hushlittlewolf/pseuds/hushlittlewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It never leaves you. Always in the corner of your eye. Grey like ash and black like guilt and swirling in the patters that are burned along Peter’s body. You’re fault, you’re faultyou’refault. </p><p>or </p><p>A tale of Derek Hale and smoke</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Smoke Must Clear

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a self-indulgent drabble I wrote in ethics class because that class is useless and bores me to tears. I also like 2nd POV and haven't done it in a while so here we are. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> And please comment.

The night you and Laura leave town there is smoke in the rearview mirror. It’s a new moon, the stars are veiled, and the only light in the world are the flames licking into the sky, burning, burning, burning all you know. You can’t breathe, lungs heavy with ash, and you can hear your mother’s voice, screaming, can hear your little sister Cora, crying.

Then, you blink…

And it’s day, and it’s bright, and it’s two weeks after the fire. Laura stands on the side of the road, shaking the sheriff’s hand, thanking him for all he’s done, lying through her teeth as she says you’re both going to stay with family back East. It’s a lie because you have no more family. You made sure of that.

Standing feet and yards and miles away from this place that is no longer home, with the sign exclaiming, “Welcome to Beacon Hills!”—yellow words and brown wood and _firecrumblinghouse—_ digging into your spine, you’re ready to leave it all behind. When Laura finally puts the car in drive, you can’t help but glance back and you’re awake—you know you are, dig claws into your palms until you bleed, until you’re  ** _sure_** —but smoke clouds the rearview all the same.

It never leaves you. Always in the corner of your eye. Grey like ash and black like guilt and swirling in the patters that are burned along Peter’s body.  _You’re fault, you’re faultyou’refault._

_***~*~*** _

Six years later and you still wake with the taste of soot in the back of your throat, grit and dust between your teeth. It’s particularly strong one morning, the morning after Laura clicked the door shut behind her with a teasing, “ _See you in a few weeks grumpy gills_ ” trailing in her wake. She had gone back, gone back to ash and empty graves because “ _I have to, Derek. Something’s happening, something bad. We **have**  to go back. Maybe…maybe we’ll finally catch a break. Maybe we’ll finally find out why this happened to us.”_

You tried to stop her. Said, “ _You’re wasting your time. There’s nothing in that town but ghosts, Laura.”_ And my shame, you didn’t say. The blood on my hands that I tried to leave behind.

She didn’t listen, and six weeks later, when you’re standing over half her body in the woods, you think, “ _One more ghost to add to the list.”_ The smoke in the corner of your eyes—always there, never leaving—threatens to consume you, pulsing to the beat of your heart, the thrum of  _you’refaultyou’refaultyou’refault_ bleeding through your veins.

When you come to, dirt crusted under your nails, the taste of salt in your mouth—blood and tears and sweat—the smoke has consolidated into a spiral that spans your whole world and that has settled in the dirt beneath your feet.

It’s the only tombstone Laura will ever get.

**~*~*~*~**

Things happen. Some things are out of your control but most things…most things just slip through your fumbling fingers. You try to catch them, try your goddamn hardest, but you will never be your mother, will never be Laura who was so much the sum of you parents’ best qualities. You’ve been mediocre, inadequate,  _lacking,_ all your life. Not for the first time, you wish you were the only one that the fire had caught, know that every single one of your family members were more valuable, more  **worthy**  of the stolen air you choke on, acrid and black on your tongue.  

These children call you  _Alpha_ but you do not even know the meaning of the word. You’re just playing dress up and hope they don’t notice.

**~*~*~**

They notice.

**~*~*~**

When everything is said and done, you are tired. Tired and world-wearied and finished with this town and its never-ending tombstones, the graves that threaten to swallow you whole. You need to get out, need to run. You had once told two teenagers “that once you start running, you never stop.” But the thing is…you don’t want to stop. You want to run until your feet bleed, until the world forgets your name. You want to run until the ghosts— _of your family and Erica and Boyd and all the innocents that have died because of your shortcomings—_ can no longer find you.

But most importantly, you want to run before this town and its smoke takes Cora too. Cora, your own little miracle that you will cling to even if it kills you _— **it almost did** —_because you’ve lost enough limbs already. 

**~*~*~**

The night you and Cora leave town there is sunlight in the rearview mirror. The road stretches out before you, grey asphalt and yellow lines, an unfamiliar tune humming on the radio. Your sister turns to you, and she smiles.

“ _Where to now, grumpy gills?”_

You shrug and put the car into drive. Cora’s hand closes over yours on the gearshift.

“ _It’s okay, Derek,”_ she says, and she’s serious, her heart a steady thrum. “ _Everything is going to be okay now.”_

You think of Scott, the boy who got pulled into something he couldn’t understand. You think of the alpha he has become— _better than you, of that there is no question_ —and the pack he now leads. They’re strong, together, and they need neither you nor Cora. It’s for the better. In the back of your mind, you wish them luck and pray they learn from your thousands of mistakes.

Pulling onto the road, you can’t help but look back. Smoke lingers in the air above Beacon Hills, but it’s fine, thin, shot through with light from the setting sun. You watch as it clears all together.

Then, you blink…

And it’s not a dream, and it’s bright, and it’s two weeks after Cora  _didn’t_ die and you think…

Maybe…maybe you’ve finally caught a break.

You’ll take it and see how far you can run.  

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: http://the-wild-wolves-around-you.tumblr.com/


End file.
